


Again.

by ahbonjour



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Doomed Timelines, Gen, Papyrus is a Good Brother, Timeline What Timeline, but what else is new, sans is very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 20:02:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5305004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahbonjour/pseuds/ahbonjour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans has stopped coming out of his room. Papyrus isn't sure what to do about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Again.

Sans had not told a joke in one day, which was a fact that normally Papyrus would be grateful for. But in fact, Sans had not come out of his room for one day. This was a fact that Papyrus didn’t know what to do with.

Papyrus tried to respect his privacy, but it was hard when Sans wouldn’t even tell him what was wrong. So he resigned himself to knocking on the door, waiting to hear a voice, waiting for anything and resigning himself to a day alone when it didn’t come.

Finally, after a whole day of waiting for Sans to emerge, he did—but from the chill of Snowdin, not the comfort of his room. He was gripping a paper bag with grease stained on the bottom. “geez, papyrus, what happened to you? you look like death.”

Papyrus leapt up, trying to look furious but only succeeding in looking relieved. “Sans! That is not funny! I thought you were in your room, I was worried sick about you!”

“it’s cool, bro. i’m back now. want some cheese fries?”

 **Again**.

* * *

 

Sans had not told a joke in three days. In fact, Sans had not come out of his room for three days. This was a fact that Papyrus didn’t know what to do with.

He hated Sans’s moods, the times when his smile would slip just a little, just around the edges, and he’d spend hours or days locked in his room, murmuring to himself and tapping his chin, looking at Papyrus like he was shocked he was there. He’d been having fewer of them lately, but when he did have them, they were doozies.

“You need to just let him wear himself out!” Undyne suggested at their training that afternoon as she punched the tomatoes into a beaten paste. “That’s what I do with Alphys. She gets moods too—I let her work them out herself.”

“Doesn’t she need help?”

Undyne focused on where her knuckles were scraped when she smashed them into the countertop, their blood mixing with the tomatoes’ red juices. “I don’t know,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t know what to do with moods. I wish I could help her. Sorry.”

Papyrus nodded like he understood when he didn’t, and went home, and sat against the wall outside Sans’s room until he reemerged and asked if he wanted to go to Grillby’s. Papyrus made him promise not to do that again and hadn’t moved until Sans did.

 **Again**.

* * *

 

Sans had not told a joke in five days. Sans had not come out of his room for five days. This was a fact that Papyrus didn’t know what to do with.

“I’ve tried everything I know to do,” he said exasperatedly one evening, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. “I don’t know how to get him out! Do you all have any ideas?”

“He needs to find someone and get married,” Dogamy said sagely.

“It’s true,” Dogaressa agreed, nodding like Dogamy was the smartest dog in the world. “Finding someone to spend the rest of your life with is truly the only path to happiness.”

“That’s not the only path to happiness,” the bird at the bar said.

His fish companion sighed. “No, but it would sure help.”

“He’d come back to Grillby’s if he had fresh drinks and h-h-hot guys!” the spiral- eyed bunny said with an accusatory glance at the fiery bartender.

“No, he’d come back if we kicked out the bourgeoisie!” the punk hamster snarled towards the monster with big teeth.

The bar erupted into shouts and Papyrus took the opportunity to see himself out. Doggo was smoking a cigarette outside. “All I know is you need to get him back soon,” he said, eyes focusing and unfocusing. “They never fight like that when he’s here.”

Papyrus fell asleep outside Sans’s room that night, curled up on the carpet, and when he woke there was a blanket over him and Sans was cooking bacon in the kitchen, and Papyrus knew everything would be okay.

 **Again**.

* * *

 

Sans had not told a joke in a week. Sans had not come out of his room for a week. Papyrus didn’t know what to do.

He had tried everything he knew how to do to coax Sans out. Temptations of Papyrus’s famous pasta, promises to watch his favorite television show, plans to lay about and nap, even Papyrus, as long as they were doing it together. Threats to run away from home if he didn’t come out. The hallway carpet was littered with Grillbys bags and uneaten meals; that grease was all Papyrus had eaten for the past three days in the hopes that Sans would come out and tease him about it. He didn’t care. Papyrus would eat a mountain’s worth of grease if it meant Sans would come back out.

He barely heard movement from inside until midnight on the seventh day, when Papyrus heard the telltale sound of Sans slipping out of bed and into his slippers, shuffling across the floor to feed something to the trash tornado. The noise would have been impossible for anyone else to hear, but Papyrus was not anyone else.

“Sans?”

He heard Sans stop moving, could almost see the way Sans would be rooted to the spot, eyes wide, smile dropped.

“Sans, please.” Papyrus knocked his head against the wall and turned it to look at the door. “I miss you. Please come out.” Sans didn’t say anything. “I don’t know what to do anymore, brother. I confess, I’m at a loss. If there’s anything I can do to help, anything—”

“there’s nothing you can do, papyrus,” came Sans’s deep voice on the other side. “go to bed.”

“I can’t,” Papyrus said, his voice cracking when he did. “I tried, but it’s like my action figures are watching me. My room is too dark and it’s all very frightening without you to help me.”

“you’re an adult, pap,” Sans said, and Papyrus flinched at how hard his speech was when he said that. “you can take care of yourself.”

“No, I—I know I can,” Papyrus said, lacing his fingers together and apart, trying to figure out how to articulate it. “I don’t need you to take care of me. But I do… need you. To be my brother. I need you.” He laced his fingers a little too tight. “I’m very scared for you right now, Sans.”

There was a very long pause, then the door opened with a loud click and a louder creak, revealing Sans hiding behind it. His hoodie was stained dark with unidentifiable red and he was crying from his good eye, the one that glowed blue sometimes. His tears were bright sapphire and glowed in the darkness like shimmering fish’s scales. He sniffed and wiped his nose hole on his sleeve. “what’s the point?”

“Sans?”

“what’s the point of any of this?”

“Well, erm,” Papyrus said, rolling the words around in his brain. “I don’t know, Sans. Can you be more specific?”

Sans laughed hollowly and leaned against the doorjamb. “it all just resets. i don’t know what the point of the whole song and dance is anymore.”

“I don’t understand.”

“what does it matter if you don’t understand? you won’t remember any of this, you didn’t remember the last times i disappeared. how many times do i lock myself in my room? how many times do you try to get me out and i do, and i promise not to lock myself in again? and then i do, every time, every reset. what’s the point?” He pressed his sleeve to his eye, squeezing them both closed so he wouldn’t have to see his brother’s worry. “what’s the point of the whole routine, pap? i always do it again.”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Papyrus said, trying to sound both honest and supportive, “but there is always a point. When it comes to you being okay, there is always a point.”

Sans sniffed again and suddenly crumpled to the ground like a Jenga tower, shaking and crying and clutching for something just out of reach. Papyrus grabbed him and hauled him into his lap where Sans threw his arms around his neck, sobs wracking his pudgy frame. Papyrus wanted to say something, wanted to tell him he was there and Sans was okay, but he didn’t know how to get the words out.

“they killed you,” Sans whispered, so low he almost couldn’t be heard. “last time they killed you.”

“It’s okay, Sans.”

“i can’t do another reset.”

“You’re okay.”

“i can’t do another one again. i don’t want us to forget. i’m so scared. i’m so scared.”

Papyrus couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he went silent, holding his brother tight until they both fell asleep in the hallway, together, like always.

* * *

**Again**.


End file.
